


Underworkings: The True Story of Sabertooth

by Dreaming_of_Fairys



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Blood and Injury, Character Death, Dai Matou Enbu | Grand Magic Games Arc, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Romance, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Hiding Medical Issues, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Murder, Physical Abuse, Sabertooth Guild - Freeform, Secret Relationship, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, Yaoi, sabertooth vs fairy tail, sting x rogue, stingue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-15 12:19:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5785093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_of_Fairys/pseuds/Dreaming_of_Fairys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(GMG from Sabertooths POV) Fairy Tail saw Sabertooth as their enemy. To them, their actions weren't justified. But to the members of Sabertooth, every word, every blow, every taunting smirk was necessary. Underneath their cocky grins and arrogant attitudes, there was a whirlwind of fear that could only be tamed by victory, and with every loss...it only gets closer to coming out. </p><p>"It is a horrible, unspoken truth between them that they could potentially lose each other at any moment. One mistake and they were either gone or dead. Both ways there would be no goodbye: no ceremony of leaving, no funeral. Just an empty house and a lot of painful memories."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. [prologue: with motivation]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sound_Of_Inspiration](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sound_Of_Inspiration/gifts), [TokiKurp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TokiKurp/gifts).



> Dedicated to my friends who are going through some hard times right now.
> 
> So I've been working on this fanfic for like...months...and just never posted it X"D
> 
> But here it is~! Basically, this is my take on Sabertooth's POV during the Grand Magic Games (well, kinda Sting's POV more than anything else). But basically, this is extreme angst with eventual Stingue. XP I'm satanic, just to remind you~ :D Triggers include all sorts of shit but it's mainly abuse. Because Jiemma's an asshole.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy! Updates will probably be slow, because school is hell on earth and I'm also still working on Teardrops and Coffee :)
> 
> (Psst... If you could leave a comment it would make my week. <3)

_prologue: with motivation_

* * *

A breath of wind carries dust clouds through the warm, dry air. A tall, broad shouldered man towers oversees a fight like a god. The duel is between two of his "pawns", one under his control, one an outsider. This man, this dictator, could crush one of these young men under his fist with two words. He could make their world crumble under their feet, plunging into the core of despair.

He is in control.

The fighting man in question almost looked like a child compared to his godlike tyrant of a guild master. His blond hair is spiked in various directions, slicked to his forehead with sweat. His dark blue eyes are cold and calculating, watching his opponent's every move with practiced precision. He is a solider, taught from a young age how to throw a punch. Orphaned, taken in, and orphaned again.

He is a child with a dark past. But that is the way his master likes them: already broken. It's so much easier to control those who have no hope left than to break someone's spirit who has a sane, steady head on their shoulders.

The god speaks, his voice a rumble in his throat. "Sting! You should have won by now! Why are you so foolishly weak?!"

The blond grits his teeth together, obliviously in pain. His opponent is a much larger man with beady eyes and a scarred body. The boy is dwarfed by everything around him: the vastness of the open expanse of sky, the rocky mountains stretching across the horizon, and the towering shadow of a tyrant.

But Sting does not falter. If anything, he stands up straighter and taller, facing his opponent head on. He was told nothing about this other man, other than he is to be eliminated. So eliminate Sting will do.

"I'm fine, Master," he says with confidence he most definitely doesn't have. Fear is clawing away at his stomach. He knows the game he is forced to play by heart.

It was simple, really. Every month, each member of Sabertooth had a test to make sure they still had the strength to stay in the guild. And so, Jiemma found wizards wanting a challenge and threw them into a death match with members of the guild. Kill or be killed. Survival of the fittest. That is the game you play, no questions asked.

Sting wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, sweat glistening on his skin. The other man growls, readying his magic. Sting gives him no such chance, springing forward with inhuman speed. His fist hits into the other man's chest without being blocked or even softened. Sting lets a flash of white energy go, surging into the larger man's skin.

The dust clears as Sting takes a step back. Expecting a body on the ground, he flies backwards when magic slams into him, causing him to fall towards the dirt. A shout of pain escapes his parched, raw lips, blood sprinkling against his own chin. His body crashes into the ground without time to cushion his fall, his side slamming straight into a large, sharp rock. "Ahhh, f-fuck!" Sting shouts, trying to conceal his pain as he sinks his fanged canines into his already bloody lips.

"Get up!" Jiemma roars. "Do you want to be in the Games this year, Sting?! You've got to do better than that, boy!"

Sting's eyes widen with an emotion he tries desperately to keep hidden...fear. The other man stands over him, his hands swirling with magic as he prepares the final blow.

"WEAK!" Jiemma roars. "I THOUGHT YOU WERE BETTER THAN THIS, STING!"

"I AM!" Sting screams, his voice cracking with fear. He disguises it with anger, not wanting to show his true colors. He couldn't fail, not now. Oh god, he couldn't fail. He couldn't ever fail. He needs to keep winning. Victory is everything.

All that matters is becoming the strongest Dragon Slayer there is, knocking Natsu Dragneel into the dirt and making him bleed. Sting is going to beat him with his own two fists, pound him down until everyone sees truly how weak Natsu really is compared to real, actually strong Dragon Slayers.

Or at least...that's what Sting said. Those were the lies he told everyone, including himself. _I am strong._ Three words...one hundred lies.

"HAAAAAAAAA!" Sting screeches, springing at his opponent. The larger man's eyes widen, not expecting the boy to get back up. "I AM STRONG! YOU HEAR ME?!" He knocks the man to the ground, his knees on the man's scarred chest. He breathes slowly, trying to calm his wild emotions.  
_  
'Easy now, Sting,'_ he thinks. _'Don't show your fear...just go...'_ He hears Jiemma shouting gleefully behind him, ordering Sting to end the man that lay below him. And so, Sting does what he always does when he's scared: he talks.

He talks himself up, brags, boasts, scoffs... The words themselves had no meaning, just bland, tasteless insults, dripping with poison. He does anything he can to make him feel superior and in control, hiding his enteral screaming. Because underneath every word were a thousand unseen emotions that he kept locked away behind his eyes.

"You thought you were strong, didn't you?" Sting smirks to hide his trembling lip and gritted teeth. His opponent says nothing. "Haha," Sting's voice lowers almost to a whisper. "Well, you were wrong. You weren't even a challenge. If it weren't so damn hot today, I doubt I would've even broken a sweat."

"WHAT ARE YOU STALLING FOR?!" Jiemma's voice echoes through the mountaintop, causing Sting to flinch away from pure instinct.

"Well," Sting's smirk widens into a sneer. "Guess this is goodbye. Have fun in hell." With no emotion in his eyes, Sting runs him right through with a white beam. It is a perfectly clean cut, something that has taken him seven long years to perfect. There is so much blood staining his hands from all those years that it has simply dried and become a second skin, protecting him from harm. Killing is easy. And that is something that frightens Sting to no end.

Sting climbs off of the defeated corpse of his "enemy", blood staining his hands and knees. He breathes in shakily, relieved that it was over. He'd been in hot water there for a moment. Imagine if he'd failed... _'No. You won. You're never gonna fail, so there's no point dwelling on it.'_

His head jerks to the side, the tyrant's voice drawing his attention. Jiemma's laughter is a low rumble in his chest, "Very good, boy. But not nearly good enough."

Sting's eyes widen, then quickly close. He wants to scream, wants to cower in fear, wants to fall to his knees and sob, but instead he stands up tall, waiting. The blow comes before he'd fully braced himself, knocking him back to the ground. He can feel his side where Jiemma's massive hand struck smarting up already, forming a bruise. Sting staggers to his feet, his whole body shaking from pain. He holds back tears that are threatening to spill as he trudges down the mountain towards home.

Home. Not the guildhall, nor the dorms where Jiemma wanted them to stay. No, Sting had a real home. There, and only there, he was safe. He could lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, breathing heavily as tears pool in his eyes, and not be judged. No, at home he was understood.

Home was where they were. Lector, the little Exceed that Sting had run into at age 8 and been friends with ever since. Frosch, the innocent, wide-eyed Exceed found crying by a pond. And...of course...Rogue Cheney.

There was always hesitation for Sting in thinking about Rogue, because Sabertooth discouraged emotional attachment (or really any attachment at all), and it would be a lie to say Sting didn't feel strongly for Rogue, because he did. Rogue was the only one who understood, truly, how Sting felt. They had a relationship neither of them truly understood. They weren't friends, it didn't feel right to say that. No, they were partners. Twins, as they had been nicknamed by the guild. Although that didn't feel right either.

Sting is jerked from his thoughts by his foot slamming into a rock on the path. He hisses violently, barely able to stop himself from falling over in time. He still isn't 100% sure what type of magic that other man used, but hell did it do things to him. At this point he isn't sure he's going to make it all the way down the mountain.

And he doesn't. Somehow, without even remembering it, he passes out halfway down the trail. He awoke to a sharp pain hitting him in the side right where he'd been beaten earlier. He yelps loudly in pain, hissing and once again holding back sobs.

"Sting!" Jiemma's voice barks. "Get up you weak fool!" He kicks him again, causing another cry to escape Sting's lips.

"Y-Yes Master," he coughs, blood splattering on the ground. His vision is blurry as he makes his way to his feet. He finds that Jiemma is accompanied by two other people: one a stranger, one the only person who can make Sting smile. Sting's gaze meets Rogue's instantly, red eyes locking with blue. Sting can see the relief in Rogue's eyes that Sting had, in fact, won. But that relief is short-lived, as concern is prominent in those red eyes, swirling deep inside of him.

"Rogue!" Jiemma snaps. "Stop pitying him and keep hiking!"

"Of course," Rogue says smoothly, as if his partner isn't bruised and coughing up blood on the mountain trail nearby. That is something Rogue is even better at than Sting: locking himself away, so much so that even Sting had trouble reading him. Rogue turns on his heel as if he didn't care in the slightest, not pausing once to look behind. Sting understood. He needed no confirmation.

And so, he too turns on his heel and walks away, moving in the opposite direction. With every step Jiemma and Rogue only get further and further away, descending off the mountain to the cold, hard ground. He is moving away from both his pain and his salvation all at once.

Once his body hits the mattress, he cries. He cries for his own weakness, for the fact that there was a possibility that he would never see Rogue again, for the unfairness of his life. But most of all, he cries for the loss of his own humanity.

Because now...he was nothing more than a solider with a thousand corpses on his back.


	2. [chapter one: with anticipation]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your wonderful feedback! Here's chapter 1 ^^
> 
> I might change the rating to M for violence, although tbh I'm not sure~
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

_ chapter one: with anticipation _

* * *

 

The door of the Twin Dragons' home slams shut with a bang. The windows shudder in their frames, subject to the anger of the entering Dragon Slayer. The man in question is trembling with rage and sorrow, breaking down both internally and externally.

Sting shuffles into the entryway of the house, his eyes puffy and red from crying. His shirt and jacket had been tossed to the side earlier, leaving the bruises dotting his chest visible for all to see. Here it didn't matter. Here...he was safe.

"Rogue?" he says quietly, as if testing the word on his tongue.

"I can't believe him." Rogue's voice is shaking in anger. "I can't fucking believe him!" He clenches his hand into a fist, tears pooling in his crimson eyes. Sting remains silent, sliding his hands into the pockets of loose pants. "The man he made me to fight," Rogue's voice is a dangerous whisper now, "the man he wanted me to fight...had three children and a pregnant wife, and he was struggling to keep his family afloat! He joined the f-fight because Jiemma told him he'd be against someone weak and win money!"

Anger boils in Sting's stomach. "What the hell?!" he exclaims. "How did you find this out?!"

Lip trembling, Rogue manages out, "I screwed up...when I meant to end it slowly f-for him...I missed his heart...I was going to hit him again but then he st-started talking and I couldn't j-just cut off his last words..."

Sting lets out a low growl. "I fucking hate Jiemma," he hisses, his voice trembling.

"So do I," Rogue replies shakily. He takes another step forward, wincing in pain. He falls forward towards Sting, gasping as one of his legs gives way underneath him. Sting barely catches him in time, reaching an arm out to stop the Shadow Dragon's fall.

"Easy," Sting says as gently as he can. Slowly they make their way to the couch, collapsing side by side on its scuffed up surface. With trembling fingers, Rogue removes his cape from around his throat and lays it across the armrest. Next he unties the white collar around his neck, setting it down on top of his cape. Next to come off is his right boot, but he hesitates with his left.

Noticing this, Sting slowly reaches down to remove Rogue's silver leg guard, then gently tugs off his boot. Rogue lets out a gasp of pain as his leg is revealed.

"Shit," Sting swears, seeing the way Rogue's entire shin is black, blue, and swollen. "How did this happen?"

"The fight itself was easy," Rogue gasps out. "The man was sadly no match for me...b-but because I let him talk, Jiemma p-punished me."

This is enough information for Sting to know what happened. He sighs sadly, his blue eyes heavy. "Well, at least you're alive..." His tone is weak, tinted with fear and sadness. This brought an uneasy silence between them. It is a horrible, unspoken truth between them that they could potentially lose each other at any moment. One mistake and they were either gone or dead. Both ways there would be no goodbye: no ceremony of leaving, no funeral. Just an empty house and a lot of painful memories.

Breaking the heavy silence between them, Rogue reaches out towards Sting's side where the large bruise had only grown. "Is this where he kicked you?"

"Ouch!" Sting yelps, wincing. Rogue pulls his hand back, an apology in his eyes. "Y-Yeah, that's it."

"You should get some ice," Rogue sighs, his fingers ghosting over the same spot, just much more gentle this time.

"So should you," Sting replies, looking at Rogue's left leg.

"I know." Rogue tries to stand, a sound of agony escaping between clenched teeth. Sting is on his feet in a flash, grabbing Rogue's arm tightly.

"No, sit down, I'll go get it."

"A-Are you sure?" Rogue looks up at Sting's bruised chest with concern, blinking away any tears that pool in his eyes.

"Yeah, positive," Sting nods. He waves a hand dismissively, putting on a mask of confidence. "I'm fine. They look way worse than they actually are." Rogue sees right through this lie, but says nothing. He knew that Sting found comfort in hiding his pain sometimes, making himself seem stronger and tougher than he really is. Rogue isn't about to burst that bubble of security.

Sting's voice carries from the kitchen, reaching Rogue's enhanced ears easily, "Do you think you're in the Games this year?"

"Yes," Rogue replies with absolute certainty. "I don't know why he wouldn't choose us, Sting. He may threaten to not, but we've been in the Games each year that we've won, so I doubt he'll choose anyone else."

Sting comes back into the room with two bags of ice, looking a bit more alive than he had when he left. The slight bit of water dripping from his lashes proved that he'd simply splashed himself with water. He sits back down, passing a bag to Rogue and keeping the other for himself. "You don't want to though, do you?"

"Do I ever?" Rogue asks softly, shifting the ice on his swollen shin. "Fighting really isn't my favorite, especially not with all the pressure the Games bring..."

"But Gajeel?" Sting points out, wincing as he presses the ice further into the bruise on his side.

"But Gajeel," Rogue repeats softly. "It's hard to believe that Fairy Tail's back, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Sting's voice is just as quiet as Rogue's, just fiercer. "It is." Suddenly he's rising to his feet, dropping the ice onto the side table flinching ever so slightly due to the pain shooting through his body. "But this is going to be all we ever dreamed of since we were little, Rogue! If Natsu and Gajeel compete, we’ll finally be able to fight them! This will be our win for once!" He clenches his hand into a fist, forcing a smile onto his face. "We'll finally be able to be strong after all of this time!"

To his surprise, Rogue doesn't share his enthusiasm. "Yeah...I guess."

Sting's smirk is wiped off his face in a flash. He opens his mouth, about to question Rogue's attitude, but decides against it. He shouldn't press any further, not now. "I'm going to bed," Sting turns around, grabbing the ice on his way towards the bedroom. "Join me if you want."

"I will in a minute." Rogue shifts on the couch, the sensation of burning spreading through his shin as he presses the ice harder against his skin. He watches Sting leave the room with a heavy heart.

They were both so broken...and it was only getting worse.

* * *

Sting shifts his standing position, sliding his hands into his pockets. He really didn’t want to be here today...but Master Jiemma was picking the Grand Magic Games team today, and he knew he was in, so he had to be here. He glances over at Rogue worriedly, wondering how he is holding up with his busted leg. Just like always, Rogue stands tall, hair covering a single eye, as if nothing is wrong. Sting holds back a concerned sigh and instead focuses on their Guild Master in the front of the room.

“Members of Sabertooth,” Jiemma’s voice booms. “It’s that time again. That time to remind the world why we, Sabertooth, are in fact the strongest guild in all of Fiore! Today I will choose the team for the Grand Magic Games. Although, to be blunt, if you think you’re in, you’re mostly likely in.”

At this, Sting’s eyes find Rogue again. The corner of Rogue’s mouth twitches, but other than that, he shows no reaction.

“Sting.” Sting swallows hard. He had been correct. This was going to be it. This was his chance.

“Rogue.” Rogue shifts his standing position ever-so-slightly, making it even harder to see behind his thick bangs.

“Rufus.” The Memory Mage smirks confidently, pulling the brim of his hat down in a mock salute.

“Orga.” The God Slayer laughs almost boastfully, then mumbles something under his breath with a sneer.

“Yukino.”

At this heads turn in surprise. What about Minerva? Sting couldn’t believe it. Master Jiemma was picking a newbie over his own daughter? Or even if for some reason she wasn’t an option, what about veterans like Dobengal?

“Yes sir,” Yukino says quickly. “I will do my best.”

“No,” Jiemma’s voice rumbles. “You will succeed!”

“Y-Yes Master!” Yukino says quickly, eyes widening in fear. Sting knew that look well. Many people in their guild wore that look when addressed by their Guild Master. Everyone was so frightened of what Jiemma could possibly do them that they could hardly contain their fear. This terror was what kept the guild together, listening to Jiemma. If it weren’t for that...they would’ve fallen apart at the seams long ago.

“You are dismissed,” Jiemma growls.

“W-Wait, M-Master,” someone stammers from the back of the group. Heads turn, shocked that anyone would dare to say anything after being dismissed. “Wh-What about Our Lady?”

“Minerva will not be joining us, she is out on a job,” Jiemma’s voice is steel. “Do you understand?! My decision is final!”

“Yes, of course, Master!” the man blurts out nervously, quickly shrinking down.

“Good,” Jiemma rumbles. “I want the team with me. We’re going to do some last minute training.”

Sting quickly moves towards Jiemma, not wanting to be yelled at for being late. Rufus is right behind him, followed by Yukino. Orga takes his time, but not in a lazy way.

Jiemma growls. “Rogue!” he barks. “Hurry up!”

Sting turns his head to look his partner, a feeling of dread sinking low in his chest. Rogue is obviously struggling to move, limping towards the group with his head down.

“HURRY UP, I SAID!”

A few other guild members that were still in the room flinch, then rush out of the room. Sting can see a twitch in Rogue’s jaw, either from pain or shock or fear, and it really doesn’t help calm his anxious stomach.

Rogue hobbles over to them at last, hissing painfully under his breath. Sting locks eyes with him, hoping his silent question is received. Rogue discreetly shakes his head, answering it. Sting’s heart sinks. Rogue is still in pain.

“What took you so long?” Jiemma says angrily. “Explain yourself!”

“It’s....it’s nothing,” Rogue manages out. “I’m fine.”

SLAP!

The sound echoes across the room, loud and harsh. Sting’s eyes widen as Rogue clutches his already bruising cheek, cursing under his breath.

“LYING TO ME IS NOT TOLERATED, ROGUE! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! TELL THE TRUTH!”

“I...” Rogue swallows back the apology, knowing that it would get him nowhere. “I understand. It’s my leg, Master. It’s bruised from yesterday.”

“Your fight was easy!” Jiemma’s voice booms. Sting watches as the other members of the team look on with fear in their wide eyes. “How could your leg be wounded so badly? He didn’t even touch you!”

Rogue takes a deep breath, blinking away a single tear that only Sting saw. “It...It’s from when you pushed me.”

_**SLAP!** _

Rogue cries out in pain, staggering backwards. Sting wants to scream, full of fury. How the hell could he just stand there and let Jiemma beat Rogue up right in front of his eyes? He’d done it so many times...but after what Rogue had told him yesterday, Sting didn’t want to tolerate this anymore. And yet...he is too afraid. His own fear roots him in place as Rogue holds back sobs, clutching his side now and wobbling on his single working leg.

“HOW COULD A SINGLE SLAP RUIN YOUR LEG, ROGUE?! YOU WEAKLING! YOU NEED TO TOUGHEN UP, OR YOU DON’T BELONG IN SABERTOOTH! DO YOU HEAR ME?!”

“L-Loud and clear,” Rogue stammers. He coughs, spitting up something into his hand. Sting doesn’t notice it at first, but he does see when Rogue clenches his hand into a fist, dark crimson leaking from between his fingers. Sting holds back tears of his own and awaits Jiemma’s orders.

“You’re going to train each other,” his voice booms. “I’ll partner you up. The extra one will train with me.”

Shivers went down Sting’s spine. He did not want to train with Jiemma. He’d heard way too many horror stories about that experience...missing teeth...cracked ribs...broken limbs... And yet, today, Sting would face Jiemma if it meant that Rogue got to fight someone else. He did not want Rogue paired with Jiemma, not now, not ever. Sting would let all of limbs snap, lose all of his teeth, crack every bone in his body before he let Rogue face that monster in a sparring match that would most likely be fatal.

“Rufus, you and Yukino,” Jiemma points at the two of them. Rufus tips the brim of his hat to Yukino, who smiles. “Orga, you’ll be with me. Sting, you’re with Rogue.”

At first, Sting thought that this was the greatest news he’d heard all week. A chance to spar with Rogue...they could simply practice their attacks on the surrounding area instead of each other, rest whenever they felt they needed to, and maybe even relax a bit. It sounded like a luxury that Sabertooth would never have within its walls.

Unfortunately, Sting was right.

“I will be supervising all the training sessions as well as holding my own,” Jiemma continues. “If I see anyone slacking off, no matter the circumstances, you will be punished. You need to fight full strength this entire match, you hear me?! No giving up! This is Sabertooth! In this next half hour, you have to pretend that this is the Grand Magic Games, and that the person across from you is your worst enemy! You must defeat them!”

Sting’s eyes widen. Full strength? But he is in way better physical shape than Rogue is, if he went full strength then...

“Outside!” Jiemma barks. Quickly they all make their way outside, Rogue taking up the rear as he tries to stumble forward on his busted leg. Sting can tell by the way he moves that his side is paining him as well. Sting swallows hard. He is going to have to find a way to hold back without it being obvious.

Rufus and Yukino began their match over in the far corner of the field, with Rufus being much stronger than the Celestial Mage. Orga and Jiemma had started as well. Jiemma isn’t really fighting, he’s mostly blocking Orga’s moves, shouting things at him.

Sting swallows hard, looking over towards Rogue who stands nearby, breathing heavily and holding onto his side. He is having trouble standing, his body swaying minorly.

“Hey,” Sting says slowly, approaching him. “At least we ended up with each other. It could’ve been so much worse.”

Rogue lifts his head, his deep red eyes swirling with emotion. “Yeah.” His voice wavers and cracks as he speaks. “P-Promise me you won’t g-go easy on me, Sting.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sting hisses, looking around frantically to make sure no one else is watching. “You think I’m gonna actually hit you with everything I’ve got?!”

“Yes.” Rogue’s voice is surprisingly firm. “You have to, Sting. I don’t want either of us to get in any more trouble.”

“I...I can’t, Rogue,” Sting stresses. “I’ll kill you!”

“No, you won’t,” Rogue shakes his head. “I may be wounded, but I can defend myself.” He shakily puts himself into a fighting stance. “Come on.” His voice is back to being weak. “Go on and hit me, Sting. Hit me with everything. Don’t hold back.”

Sting bites back tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out, then readies a punch. He pours as much magic power into it as possible, and swings forward. The blow hits Rogue’s forearm that he put up to block the attack, burning through his sleeve and leaving a red burn on his arm.

Rogue hisses in pain, “G-Good...j-just like that...k-keep going...”

“You have to at least try to fight back,” Sting says softly as he readies another punch. “Otherwise-”

“I know,” Rogue grimaces, shifting his fighting stance slightly again to give himself better balance. Sting charges towards him again, expecting Rogue to block it in a similar way than he had before.

But he didn’t. Instead, a blow connects with Sting’s stomach, Rogue’s knuckles sinking in deep to a bruise near Sting’s belly button. Sting yelps loudly, staggering back. His own attack misses entirely, white energy flashing near Rogue’s head, close enough to ruffle his hair.

“Shit,” Sting spits. “I wasn’t expecting that...g-good one...”

Concern knits in Rogue’s brow. “Are you alright?”

“J-Just fine,” Sting manages out. “O-Out of breath, th-that’s all...” He knew Rogue didn’t believe him in the slightest, but that didn’t stop him. Sting creates an orb of light in his hands, shooting towards Rogue. Rogue tries to dodge it, but his leg prevents him from moving, and the orb explodes into his already wounded side.

Rogue screams loudly, nearly falling over. Everyone present, having heard the noise, turns to look over at the Twin Dragons’ fight. Rogue is gritting his teeth, staggering to remain on his feet. Darkness seeps out of one of his hands as he attempts to attack, but Sting is already moving again.

Sting knew that everyone is watching. At this point, if he shows any sympathy, he’s going to get shot down. He has to simply strike him, emotionless, uncaring, heartless. To Sting’s shock, he finds that his mind is so preoccupied that his aim is out of control. He watches in horror, the beam soaring through the air as if in slow motion...right towards Rogue’s leg.

The attack hits straight on, sending Rogue crumpling to the ground. Gross sobs escape his mouth, unable to control the pain coursing through his leg. Sting wants to run to his side, cradle him in his arms, whisper into his hair that he is going to be okay...but he can’t.

Instead, Sting stands tall above Rogue’s battered form and says as confidently as he can muster, “I win.”

Jiemma cackles, approaching the duo. “Good, good, Sting! Just like that! Don’t hold back!”

On the ground, Rogue is unable to hold back sobs, clutching his leg and whimpering like a child. Jiemma’s attention turns to Rogue, his eyes stone. “AND YOU, ROGUE CHENEY! YOU WEAKLING. YOU WEREN’T EVEN TRYING, WERE YOU?! I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANY BULLSHIT ABOUT YOUR LEG, I DID NOTHING TO YOU! YOU ARE SIMPLY WEAK!”

Sting hides the anger he feels, biting down on his lip so hard that it draws blood. The salt in his mouth is overwhelming, and yet, in a way, it is comforting. He drowns in its flavor, ignoring the emotional pain boiling in his stomach. He couldn’t believe this...even after all this time, this abuse since he was barely 13 years old, Jiemma still got worse.

And as Rogue is kicked to the ground once more, screaming in pain, blood staining the ground, Sting can only watch with tears blurring his vision.

To do anything else would be traitorous.


	3. [chapter two: with poison]

_chapter two: with poison_

* * *

 

A week had passed since the picking of the teams, leaving the Sabertooth guild with no more time to prepare for the Games. It was time to leave...today.

Sting isn’t ready. Not in the slightest. Training had been gruesome and harsher than usual. Rent for the apartment had almost not been paid, as Rogue went to get some sort of special treatment for his leg so it wouldn’t get any worse. Not that it helped that much.

Sting exits the train, stomach weak. He had to hold in his sickness, hide it from everyone but Rogue, or else there would be consequences. It was a weakness, after all.

Rogue is walking mostly normal beside him, but Sting knew that every step was painful for him. He can see the pain glinting behind those red eyes of his, dark and piercing.

They checked into the hotel, getting rooms right beside one another. No one questioned it. The Twin Dragons were always together, after all. Rogue’s leg was of no concern to anyone. Anyone but Sting, that is. In fact, it had been forgotten, and the times moved on to greater, more important things.

At least, things that were more important to everyone else. To Sting, everything was less important to him than Rogue’s wellbeing. He couldn’t stand seeing his best friend beaten into the ground, torn apart, humiliated. It hurt him in place he didn’t understand, somewhere deep in his chest, where his heart throbbed and ached and broke. It was a pain that he couldn’t comprehend, an emotion that boils in his stomach and heart.

He is determined to figure it out...but not yet. But first...he had some games to win...

Both Jiemma’s...and his own.

* * *

It is late evening when the two of them decide to get a breath of fresh air. They leave behind the rest of the guild at the hotel, trying to ignore Jiemma’s yells of “Make a scene, you two!”, only to be slapped across the cheek on the way out when they didn’t respond.

“Make a scene,” Sting grumbles. “What does he want us to do? Blow something up? We’re not Fairy Tail.”

“No,” Rogue says quietly, looking down at his feet. He shuffles across the ground, in a slight limp. “We’re not Fairy Tail. We’ll never be like Fairy Tail.” His voice is hollow and empty, as if he has no emotions left to share. But Sting knows otherwise. Sting knows that despite Rogue’s cold exterior, he has a whirlwind of emotions hidden underneath.

Sting laughs, slightly bitterly. “But why would we want to be like Fairy Tail? From what I’ve heard they’re nothing but showoffs. Besides, they just returned from that stupid island. They’re probably extremely weak, especially compared to us.”

Rogue looks straight up into Sting’s eyes, cold and calculative. “You don’t need to put on an act around me, Sting. You know that.”

Sting swallows, caught. “Okay,” he says weakly. “Okay. I’ll admit, from the stories I’ve heard about Fairy Tail’s compassion...it makes me curious...about what they’re like...” They round a corner, straight into a crowd of people.

On reflex, Sting instantly straightens his shoulders, standing up tall, confident, as if he’s superior to everyone around him. Beside him, Rogue follows suit. Sting switches the tone in his voice from the frail, soft murmur it had been before to a loud, cocky boast. “Ha! And to think I heard Fairy Tail is joining the games this year! They won’t be even anywhere close to us!”

Rogue smirks, hiding the pain in his eyes behind his bangs. “I believe that, like always, Sabertooth will come out on top.”

Random passerby whisper and murmur around them, chattering excitedly at the sight of the “great” Twin Dragons of Sabertooth. People touch them as they pass by, Sting eating up the attention, and Rogue nonchalantly swatting their hands away. After all, those are the roles written for them in the rules.

The rules of Jiemma’s game.

“Haha, easy,” Sting laughs coldly, pushing through the crowd. “Did I hear something about a fight?”

All around them, voices begin to chant in sync. “Saber! Saber! Saber!”

They all loved them. They praised them. They cheered for them. Sabertooth: the strong, the brave, the unstoppable. If only they knew it was a lie.

Sting readies his fighting stance, Rogue right beside him. Their stances mirror each other, standing together. The only bond they were aloud to have...partnership. If only Jiemma knew how deep it ran...

Sting fought off challenger after challenger, trying to keep a confident smirk on his face. Beside him, Rogue stands his ground, trying not to move too much because of his leg. The fighters are weak, some of them not even magic users, so the Twin Dragons are able to defeat them easily.

But every movement hurt them, wounds deep in their skin, bones, and hearts getting torn open or felt as they fought to show the strength that was so fragile and false. Everything they did in the public eye was forced, a lie, simply acting, a mask they wore so often that it molded to their face.

Stone...brick...steel...anything that was strong enough to resist anything...that’s what they pretended to be...when in reality, their sanity was held up only by a single thread of Fate.

Suddenly, they hear noises coming from nearby, “Excuse me, coming through!”

Sting’s eyes turn to look at the three figures approaching the circle, watching as people clear a path. Sting’s heart stops. It was...Natsu Dragneel. The Salamander. In the flesh. Right before his eyes. And he was... _wow_. Sting didn’t know what his heart just did, but it was a weird fluttery, flipping sensation. For a moment, Sting thought he was going to be sick.

But he keeps his cool, for the crowd’s sake, for the Exceed’s sake, for Rogue’s sake, and most of all, for his own sake. “Lookie here.”

Rogue seems just as surprised, but that is only because Sting can read his eyes. Rogue manages to pull of a tone of slight disbelief and interest with skillful accuracy. “Is that Natsu Dragneel?”

Natsu Dragneel looks up at the two men, olive green eyes both confused and curious. “Yeah...that’s me... But who are you?”

Before either of the Twin Dragons can speak, someone from the crowd pipes up with, “Has this guy never heard of the Twin Dragons of Sabertooth before?”

“They’re the main force behind the strongest guild in Fiore,” adds another man.

The blonde girl next to Natsu looks at Sting and Rogue with wide eyes. “These guys are members of Sabertooth?” Sting can’t help but to think that this girl has been through something scarring recently, he can see strain in her brown eyes. Loss...she’s lost someone dear to her recently... And in that moment, Sting can’t feel anything but guilt about the way he’s going to have to treat this girl in the days to come.

“You think you guys are hot stuff?!” Natsu snaps, eyes flashing.

Sting isn’t sure how to respond to that. Inside, his head is screaming, _NO NO WE’RE NOT WE’RE BROKEN AND TORTURED AND WE NEED HELP NATSU DRAGNEEL WE NEED YOU TO SAVE US PLEASE!_ , but Sting simply lets out a low, teasing laugh. “So the rumors about you entering the Grand Magic Games this year are true after all!”

Natsu’s voice is dangerously low. “How do you know who I am?”

It sends shivers of fear down Sting’s spine. Natsu Dragneel is actually...very intimidating... Suddenly, Sting has the terrible premonition that something awful is going to happen between him...that Natsu Dragneel was not going to take any of the fake crap that Sting is spouting.

Sting hides his fear and ominous feelings, taking a deep breath before going off onto the monologue of falsehood.

He leans close to Natsu, hoping that he won’t see the swirling depths of fear in his eyes. “Everybody knows. You’re the so-called Dragon Slayer who couldn’t actually slay a dragon.” Sting’s voice would shake if it weren’t for the immense amount of willpower he put into it. “Doesn’t sound like much of a Dragon Slayer to me.” He pulls back from Natsu, feeling acid rising in his throat. He had slain a Dragon...he’d killed his own father...murder...blood on his hands...

Trying to push this thought out of his head, Sting continued to lie. “The sad part of it is, I actually used to look up to you.” He can see Natsu’s expression changing. Suddenly feeling weak, Sting flicks the conversation in Rogue’s direction. “And my friend was a big fan of Gajeel’s.”

Rogue’s face and voice are emotionless, despite how much that name affected him. “It was more of a mere curiosity as he was known as a fellow Dragon Slayer.”

Natsu’s entire expression shifts once more. “You gotta be kiddin’ me! You’re both Dragon Slayers?!” He sounds so shocked and disbelieving, as if the clue ‘Twin Dragons’ hadn’t been enough.

Sting wonders what the Salamander is thinking, whether he’s blowing it off as a lie, happy to learn there are more like him, or furious that his position on the top is threatened. _‘Don’t worry, Natsu Dragneel. You are still superior. Everyone in this wretched world with a real heart is better than the empty, tormented shell I have become.’_

Sting wishes he could say this, express the truth about the hellhole known as Sabertooth, but his reputation and life are on the line. “We would prefer that you would call us True Dragon Slayers instead. Because unlike you, we could’ve easily slain Acnologia.”

Every word that drips from his lips is poison, sucking his own life away, choking on the sticky green venom as it fills his lungs and cuts off his breathing. They could not have slain Acnologia...and not because taking a life of any sort is brutal...

Oh no, they could take lives whenever they wanted to without emotion on their face, although it did leave deep scars on their very hearts and souls. No...it is because no matter how strong their magic was, their motivation was only, “we must survive one more day”. And that would never be enough.

The blonde girl spoke up, her voice strong and enforced, speaking with strength that far surpassed Sting’s. “Well, you’d be telling a different story if you’d actually gone up against that monster like we did!”

“Yeah!” the blue cat with them shouted, “You weren’t even there!”

As Lector and Frosch bad-mouth the other cat, Sting thoughts start to rise inside of him like the tides until his head is plunging underwater, drowning all over again. _‘No...you’re wrong, Fairy Tail...we wouldn’t be able to admit our fear...no matter how hard it would be to hide it...it would be buried underneath the surface...like everything else.’_

Rogue then speaks the cold, far too real truth, one that strikes a painful chord deep within Sting’s very essence, for Rogue’s words almost always have a double meaning if you know how to look for it. “It doesn’t matter if we were there or not.”

Sting wants to shout out how true this is until his voice went out and his throat bled, coating his emotions in a dark crimson blanket. It feels as if he’s spitting blood laced with venom, his mind screaming at him _LIES LIES LIES LIES_. “What it all boils down to is we’re far superior!”

As Lector boastfully explains the difference between Dragon Slayer Generations, Sting stands there and tries to control his breathing. He was having to lie to the very person he wished he could become, and it was consuming him from the inside out.

Beside him, Rogue wasn’t much better. His red eyes are swirling with hatred: hatred of the lies he speaks, hatred of the horrible things his guild encouraged, hatred of his very self. And yet he stands tall, cold and unflinching before the Fioren people who claimed to love him, but knew nothing of who he truly is.

Natsu Dragneel is angry again, teeth clenched, eyes narrowed. “You guys really think you’re so much better than everyone else?!”

Sting’s inner voice is just a small whisper in the corner of his mind. _‘No...’_

“They don’t just think, there’s a huge difference in skill between the First and Third Generation!” Lector boasts. Sting feels his heart dissolving in his chest. Lector...poor, naïve Lector...part of the guild, but not part of the understanding. He had seen many horrors, but never had he seen Sting’s own weakness.

It was too well hidden now, so deep down inside of Sting’s core that only one person in the universe could bring it out... Only one person that Sting could trust enough to see him that way, walls down, feelings unleashed from their prison...and that someone was already more broken than he.

“Tell me something.” Natsu Dragneel is deathly serious. “Did your guys’ Dragons disappear in the year X777 too?”

Sting’s throat tightens. Weisslogia... “Yeah...you could say that...”

Like always, Rogue is there to say the harsh truths too difficult for Sting to voice aloud. And he delivers it with such emotionless security that anyone who didn’t know him like Sting died would think that he saw this event as something of the past, something that didn’t really matter to him in the slightest, neither positive or negative. “More to the point, they died.”

The painful gasp of sympathy that escapes Natsu’s lips cuts through the air.

Sting wishes he could cry, wishes he could remember how to mourn over those lost. _‘No...don’t feel sorry for us. We...’_

“The creatures that passed down their magic to us...” Rogue’s voice sounds so disconnected, using harsh words to give off an aura of uncaring conviction. “We eliminated them with our own hands so that we could earn the title of True Dragon Slayers!”

Elimination... How Sting loathed that word. Back then, when they had indeed taken the lives of their parents, there had been emotion attached, promises and love...it had been doing their parents one final favor, letting them finally be at peace.

But now...every life they took...it really was elimination... They knew nothing of who they ran their magic through, knew nothing but the fear of failure that flooded their veins, both hot and cold at the same time, pumping through their fragile hearts. As much as taking lives used to hurt them, and sometimes still did, they must not show weakness...not now...not then...not ever.

Natsu’s companions react catastrophically, but nothing can be heard above Natsu’s furious scream of, “YOU SCUM! THOSE WERE YOUR PARENTS!”

Once again, Sting avoids a direct confrontation. Dodging figurative bullets like these was a skill he had quickly mastered after joining Sabertooth...and it certainly came in handy. For if he’d addressed Natsu like he wanted too...he would’ve fallen to his knees in tears. “Listen, if you’re somehow able to make it past the qualifying round, we’ll give you a taste of what True Dragon Slayer Magic feels like.”

Rogue looks at Sting with swirling red eyes. He looks so tired, so emotionally destroyed, so ready to collapse. _His leg..._ Sting could tell that it was the main problem...most likely his salve was wearing off. “Let’s go,” Rogue says with apathy. “We’re wasting our time with this Old Generation scum.”

Sting could hear the underlying meaning in Rogue’s words, the begging of: _“please, Sting, I’m in so much pain right now and I can’t take it...I’m anxious and guilty and my leg is unbearable...”_ and all Sting wants to do is take Rogue into his arms and soothe his raging anxieties. Instead they move away from it all, from the crowd, away from Fairy Tail, quivering but trying to bury it with assertive strides and brash smirks.

“Move,” Rogue snaps at some bystanders with dark inflection, and instantly they step aside, afraid of the mighty Shadow Dragon of Sabertooth, one of the strongest wizards in the strongest guild, so dark, so emotionless, so powerful. Oh, the bitter, poisonous irony.

The four Sabertooth members walk in silence, wanting to hang their heads and slump down, show the weariness in their tired souls, but they persist on until they reach the hotel.

There their room keys are returned to them along with written orders from Jiemma to stay in their respective rooms until needed. Sting looks at the note with acid rising in his throat, not wanting to envision what Jiemma would do if he found them together in a room, tending each other’s physical and emotional wounds.

But this distress vanishes as they try to climb the stairs, the sight of Rogue falling behind too much for Sting to bear. His wounded leg is giving out underneath him, causing him to stumble and clutch onto the railing like it is the only thing keeping him afloat. His teeth are grated together in rough determination and excruciating pain.

Sting knew exactly what was happening. The ointment Rogue has been applying to his suffering limb only works for a certain amount of time before wearing off, and that seemed to happening right before Sting’s eyes.

Sting glances behind him, searching for evidence of any other guild member. Thankfully, the hallways and staircase were empty. Everyone is either still out or obeying orders and staying in their designated rooms.

Sting rushes down the staircase to the first three steps, hoisting Rogue up and into his arms bridal style, carrying him up the tall, elegant staircase. Rogue didn’t protest like Sting expected, too relieved that the immense pain he had been feeling was now rested.

Each and every stair hurt Sting’s fragile bones. Although Rogue is light and underweight by a significant amount, Sting’s body and soul are crushed, abused, and somnolent. Rogue’s added weight felt like he was a 13-year-old kid again lugging around Jiemma’s massive relics and storage crates until his hands and feet bled from the effort. Sting conceals his pain once more, just as he’d taught himself, for everyone’s sake; he didn’t want Rogue feeling worse than he already is, and neither did he want the cats to worry about him any more than they were.

They reach the top of the staircase with one final push, Sting grinding his teeth together to suppress the pain as he climbs to the finish at last. He looks down at his partner in his arms, heart heavy and eyes pained when he sees how pale Rogue truly is. “Can you walk?”

“I’ll find a way.” Rogue’s voice is vacant. Their eyes dispute in silence for quite some time, the two of them both in immense pain and neither of them wanting to make things worse for their counterpart. Eventually, Rogue won, eyes going soft with worry and tender care, and Sting gently sets Rogue onto the lavish red carpet.

“I’m helping you re-apply,” Sting says firmly, throwing a supportive arm around Rogue’s shoulders. “You are letting me help, no matter how much claim to be a burden, because you’re not.”

“But Jiemma-”

“I don’t give a shit.” Sting turns to look Rogue in the eyes, the irises of blue deadly stern into fearful red. “Something is going to happen very soon, Rogue. Something big. I could tell just by looking into Natsu Dragneel’s eyes...something is going down...and our life is going to change. Whether is better or worse...is up for the future to decide...”

Rogue sighs weightily. “I saw it too...the unrest...” He pauses for a moment, eyes tentative. “Natsu Dragneel has a mission...whether he knows it or not. And once he discovers it...he’s going to burn away any and all things blocking his path...no matter how strong.”

They approach Rogue’s room together, which is thankfully right across the way from Sting’s. Sting unlocks the door, not yet responding to his partner’s ominous words. He only speaks again once they and the cats are safely inside, door shut and locked tight.

“I have a mission too...” Sting says slowly. “And...it’s to beat him...to beat Natsu Dragneel...” Sting helps Rogue to the bed as he speaks, setting him down on the comforter. He slowly removes Rogue’s shin armor and boot as he continues. “Although now that I’ve met him...I’m terrified.”

Sting throws the boot and armor to the floor, then carefully peels Rogue’s sock away to reveal the dirty bandage underneath. “He’s got this fire...this fire of emotion...and it’s so terrifying...as if his eyes are made of flames...and he’s already casting a spell on me...burning me to the ground before I can even take a step.”

“He is the real True Dragon Slayer,” Rogue says softly as his bandage is removed and Sting moves to get the ointment. “Not us. He may not have slain a Dragon...but he faced one a multitude stronger than our frail, dying parents...they laid down for us...and we obeyed. Like the perfect soldier...like we’ve always been.”

“We haven’t always been soldiers, Rogue...for once, you’re wrong.” Sting’s voice is heavy as he rubs the ointment between his palms. “We were children once...children of Dragons. It was only after we took our first life that we lost ourselves to darkness...”

Rogue hisses and winces as Sting’s hands slowly apply the ointment to his black and blue skin. “Yes...I suppose you’re right.” He flinches again, breathing tense in his chest. “If only...we could have that innocence back...”

Tears sting his friend’s eyes as he continues layering on the salve. “Y-Yeah...if only...” Sting pauses for a moment, then looks up into Rogue’s eyes. Rogue was expecting some heartfelt wisdom or broken sob, but all Sting says is, “How long does this take to work, Rogue?”

Rogue is used to random topic changes by Sting to avoid explosive subjects, for quite often there were hurtful truths even Sting could not deny. “About thirty minutes to an hour. Until then...it’ll hurt quite a bit.”

Sting sighs sympathetically. “I’m so sorry, Rogue...”

“For what?” Rogue’s voice is cracked and weary. “You have done me nothing but good.”

Sting wipes his hands on one of the hotel towels, not looking Rogue in the eye. When he speaks, he sounds almost on the brink of tears. “Rogue...I hurt you worse during training... Your leg most likely would have healed by now if I didn’t fuck it up further.”

A strangled sound escapes Sting’s lips as Rogue grabs onto Sting’s collar, pulling him close. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for that. You did exactly what I wanted you to. The longer you beat yourself up over it, the worse you will feel.”

Sting laughs humorlessly. “I’m already fucked up inside, so what’s the point?”

Rogue’s red eyes are fire. “Sting.” He is so serious Sting can feel it in the air, thick and heavy, like you could cut it with a knife. When Rogue was this serious...it was chilling. “Trust me. If you can let go of things, do it. Otherwise they’ll build up and slowly start to consume you.” Rogue bites into his lip with a single fanged canine. “I don’t want you to end broken up like me, Sting...”

Sting can feel Rogue’s breath on his skin, cold and uneven. They were so close to each other, so close that any movement would result in contact. And so, Sting presses his forehead against Rogue’s, trying to control his own breathing in the hopes that Rogue would follow suit. Silent tears roll down their cheeks, eyes closing, no words exchanged.

That moment of silence is both a moment of weakness and strength. They were so defenseless, walls torn down so the other could see every dark part of their souls. But strength dwells in their bones, courage and trust enough to share their vulnerability.

These moments kept them alive. If it weren’t for each other, they probably would’ve given up years ago. Every tear shed is shining proof of their real selves, the people hidden underneath the false bravado. With each other, there was nothing to hide anymore.

A loud sound followed by a low rumbling starts them out of the silence, breaking the spell of security around them, pulled away from the protective bubble that separated them from cruel reality. They are quickly on their feet as the door suddenly bursts open to reveal their teammates.

A massive floating pumpkin man, the mascot, is speaking outside. “Attention all contestants participating in this year’s Grand Magic Games! Good morning! To narrow down the 113 guilds in this year’s games to a more manageable 8, let’s begin the preliminary round! Although the number of guilds increase and multiply each year, the games have gotten boring now is all I ever hear! Let’s widdle them down I say to you, and give just 8 a cheer! The rules for this preliminary round are simple!”

“I can't believe this,” mumbles Rogue from beside Sting. “Why a preliminary round?”

“Now you will all be participating in a race! The finish line is at the Domus Flau coliseum! Only the first 8 teams to reach it will move on to the Grand Magic Games! You’re free to use magic in any way you see fit, there are no restrictions! But remember, only the first 8 teams to reach the finish line will win this round!”

Orga smirks, cracking his knuckles. “We're gonna hit top spot again this year.”

Rufus sighs deeply. “I have no memory of a preliminary round.”

Sting ignores the rest of their seemingly meaningless conversation, instead turning to look at the newer girl, Yukino. She wears a determined face, but her eyes are swimming with fear. Sting knows he shouldn't console her, shouldn't say a single word, but there are only a few people here anyways. Sting looks over at the two people that would find problems in Sting comforting her, and finds them still deep in conversation.

“You scared?” His own voice startles him, having slipped back into that gravely, apathetic tone he used when he tries to hide his emotions. Habit had lead him to speaking this way around anyone other than Rogue. Rogue is the only person Sting will let see himself, even if there's only a few others around. No one can know his weakness.

The white-haired girl turns to Sting with wide eyes filled with fear. She nods quickly, then reverts her attention to her feet.

“Don’t worry,” Rogue slips into the conversation, voice smooth like liquid, easily masking any sliver of emotion inside. “Everyone is just as terrified as you.”

“I’m not sure whether that's reassuring or even more terrifying, Rogue-sama,” Yukino replies shakily. Rogue starts at the honorific, surprised that someone would refer to him with such genuine respect.

“Both,” Sting answers, hands moving to where his suspenders connect to his pants. “Definitely both.”

Orga turns back to face the Twin Dragons, completely ignoring Yukino. “Oi, shut up, I think-”

“So, without further ado, let the Grand Magic Games Preliminary Round, Sky Labyrinth, begin!” screams the projection, and before the Sabertooth members even had time to think, they were off and running.

It is time for the beginning of the end.


End file.
